If time was currency,
Would we treat it like cash?
Would we be open handed
Or hide our stash?
If borrowed, would it be demanded
Back quickly with added interest?
Would we spend it sensibly
And wisely invest?
Would we feel more inclined
To an equalising? Or become greedy?
Would the wealthier gain more
While there's less for the needy?
If time was currency, would we better
Appreciate the value of a life?
Would we live with deeper meaning?
Or would we dismiss global strife?
Whatever its form or how it is spent,
The currency means nothing at all.
Without the things that matter the most
Humanity prepares itself to fall.
All that which is manifest
As also all that which is not
All realms, all domains
The pivot, the heart with love thawed
The heart of Self, the heart of God
Stillness transcending the three states
Awareness equalising the gunas
Bilocation of consciousness
That we be immanent and transcendent
The immortal Self is bliss resplendent
Sutherland No More – A Proclamation
Sutherland Springs from the pages of my media feed,
A story of guns, grief and the need, for no more.
Sutherland no more.
The innocent and the free sitting in their Sunday Pews,
Little thinking they would be the news, on the door.
Sutherland no more.
The white squat steepled church reaches to the sky,
The congregation and world asks why, whilst the tears pour.
Sutherland no more.
‘Fortunately somebody else had a gun’, the saying goes,
That was equalising those bullet flows, from ceiling to floor.
Sutherland no more.
Freedom to Bear, Freedom to Speak, Freedom to seek
The solution to these nightmares in our sleep.
Guns cause the rift and opinion must shift.
When you’re gone,
Will you send back a letter from America?
X.
©Keith Murphy
Autumn leaves fall down,
Ready, expected, aware:
You would never question the event,
Or climb a tree to pull one off,
And then place it on the ground.
So why question suffering?
A universality so common and random,
Just to be received and convincing.
Nature is natural,
Both greenery and living organisms,
So why pull them out of the world,
Away from their context - both good and bad,
To make them the the ones to blame?
Not communally, but individually,
Unknown to their surroundings inexplicably.
Evolution sets us up by time,
With nature as itself,
Not determined or bold or pointing,
But just perfect:
Interacting and relational,
Becoming better and better every day:
Stronger, more intelligent and more moral.
John Keats’ Nightingale represents nature,
Because it gives voice to that beauty and majesty,
In song, so expressive and unaffected and free,
Encouraging us to think rationally about suffering:
The bird’s music is so fair and equalising -
For anyone, open to all in its accessibility,
Allowing us to feel and think through poetry.
Cutting cake, piece by piece
dividing subtracting equalising
but that’s not right
all things aren’t equal
crumbs
An itchy trigger finger
loading, ready to shoot out
loitering
spooked into squealing
about to be shaken like a baby
Release comes quick
an eager d**k
though snot remains
stacks of chalk lines
that need to be framed
the choo choo sound
a tissue a tissue
we all stay bound
To one another
we devote and worship
the ground you walk on
will swallow me whole
So I try to swallow you whole
tongue in cheek
and everywhere else
it will fit
licking lips and squeezing t**s
we can come so we can leave.
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